Love
by Delorita
Summary: Sherlock Holmes 09. Slash. Holmes and Watson get a chance to snuggle a bit.


Notes/Warnings: This story is completely inspired by an extraordinary photomanip by tabby_stardust. It rendered me completely speechless, left the image printed into my brain and let my muse write in this strange form. Changing POV. Thanks go to my HW beta ladylovelace.

Disclaimer: not mine, just playing and not making any money

**Holmes's POV**

I want to crawl under your skin.

I want to be even closer than I already am.

I never get enough of your strong hands on my back and my head.

I feel your breathing against my face.

I just surrendered to you because you make me whole.

You calm my over-sensitive senses to the outside world.

You are soothing me, giving me strength until I can be myself again.

You do not know any of these things, since I never tell you.

But you seem to have developed a sixth sense all things regarding me.

When you look at me I am getting the impression you can read me as I can read other people.

I did not want to be that weak.

No.

I have fought this for months. Years, maybe.

The unnatural urge to be too close to you.

The forbidden dreams about you, kissing me, doing things to me no one ever has.

I wanted to wash it away with lots of alcohol, drown it with cocaine and morphine.

But all it did was to bring you even closer to me.

You refused to see me suffer, refused to let me destroy myself.

You said you are my doctor.

When I would not listen, you pleaded with me as my friend.

It was there and then that I saw something in your eyes that made my breath hitch.

Something I had never seen before.

My mind was not clouded with drugs at that very moment.

You stepped closer and closer, straightening your back as to steal yourself for a life altering question.

Your voice sounded so gentle when you spoke my name.

"Holmes..."

I felt warmth spread over my body, just from the way you said that one single word.

I could not speak at that moment. I was astonished to see the same feelings I had for you written openly on your face for me.

We locked gazes, drawing closer.

Your hands were on my shoulders, mine crept upwards, hesitantly to your face and neck.

"It is a crime, Watson," whispered I.

"I do not care." You breathed against my mouth.

I pulled your head towards me, your fingers tightened on my upper arm.

When I felt your other hand in my hair, a moan escaped me and without further thinking I touched my lips to yours.

Your moustache tickled most pleasantly and your appreciative hum made me grin.

You drew your head back shortly, to smile back at me, pulling my body nearer towards you all the same.

I muttered, "yes" and then we kissed properly.

Lips and bodies melting into each other, tongues exploring each others mouths throughout.

You hugged me against you in such a manner, I got the impression, that just as myself, you had wanted to do that for years.

Now I am laying here in your arms and you may think I am asleep. I am not. I savour this moment of utter satisfaction and bliss just in case it was only a dream.

I feel your lips on my brow and am utterly relieved to find out that it was not another drug addict's dream.

That we are real, like this.

Together.

**Watson's POV**

I turn slightly and gently press my lips to your brow.

You snuggle even closer into me, as though you want to be inside me.

I let my fingers slowly wander down your bare, muscular back and up again to your neck.

It is a miracle to have you here with me, like that.

My left hand keeps stroking your thick, black curls. A thing I wanted to do since eternity. Finally you gave me the signal that I can.

Your hands are entwined on my shoulder plate.

Your embrace is so tight, as though you never want to let go of me.

That is why I know you are not sleeping. You never seem to sleep much anyway.

You are a genius.

My genius.

That is why I never was brave enough to show the true feelings I harboured for you.

You fight crime. You would not tolerate crime in your own home.

Our home.

You got me terribly worried when you detached yourself from me and got lost in your drugs.

I was at a complete loss.

All I could do was to keep a very close eye on you.

I stayed with you day and night, watching you in your delirium.

Watching you forget about your surroundings, forget about your incredible skill of detection.

Watching you fall into a dark place of deep depression.

My heart was aching almost beyond bearing.

One day you muttered something in one of your delirious dreams. It sounded like a mantra; like the same words over and over again.

I crouched beside you to hold my ear against your feverish lips.

You had moaned, "dear John... my dear Watson... I need you... do not leave me, I want you..."

The words had left me puzzled at first, and I dared to hope they meant what I thought.

When I hesitantly had a glance at your lower body, seeing your pants were hiding a painful bulge at your groin, I knew what you were trying to conceal from me.

A huge weight lifted from my soul and I exhaled the breath I did not know I was holding.

I surely would be able to help you with that... if you let me.

So I decided as soon as you had a clear moment, to just come out myself. Insanely hoping it would make you do the same.

*

When I feel your delicious weight on me at this moment, pressing me down into the mattress of your bed, I can barely recall those horrendous hours.

Your breath ghosts over my bare chest and I stifle a sigh not to wake you.

But you move your head just slightly and your lips and tongue start to make their way up my throat, across my jaw, towards my ear.

I have both my hands in your hair and your arousal is growing alongside mine. I want the woollen blanket that separates them gone.

You chuckle throatily in my ear and I gasp when a swift flick of your hand removes the distracting cloth.

We hiss in pure bliss when bare, smooth skin rubs against hard flesh.

I press you even closer to me and your, "my dear Watson" makes me all fuzzy and I want to melt completely into you.

I sigh deeply and entangle my legs with yours.

You look at me, starting to rock slightly.

A mischievous grin is playing around your beautiful lips. I stroke my index finger across your unshaven chin, muttering, "my dear Holmes."

You close your eyes briefly, then bend and bite at my moustache.

Your unexpected gesture makes me laugh out loud and you do not stop, but examine it closely with your lips and tongue.

"Do you want me to shave it off?"

"Don't you dare..."

You chuckle and move in to kiss me in earnest and I respond with the same hunger. Our tongues dancing the dance of utter pleasure, our bodies start to move of their own accord.

Harder.

Faster.

With an urgency that was kept under control for so many years from both of us, it spirals us straight into heaven and we fly there for several very precious moments.

When we lay quiet again, settling into our former position, I hear you say into my ear, "That certain activity with you, my dear fellow, is the only crime I ..."

You bite my earlobe, considering,"...love to indulge in."

And with that, you really fall asleep.

I chuckle, pull the discarded blanket over both of us and enjoy the moment without feeling guilty, caressing your marvellous body in your peaceful slumber.

F I N


End file.
